


Hollyhearted

by Wenzel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Magic School, Urban Fantasy, Witch AU, a little bit of christmas, and a lot of magic school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenzel/pseuds/Wenzel
Summary: A memory from Yule comes to life for Keith, a student of magic in New England. That memory happens to be Shiro--smart, kind, hot, and maybe just a little bit in love with Keith. Not that Keith's complaining.(Written for Sheith Secret Santa 2018 for Wofuru.)





	Hollyhearted

There were houses to witchcraft. The public swore by the old Greek elements with an addition of spirit, but those were philosophical and alchemical. For the true occult--the occult of bacchanal nights and sun-soaked summoning circles--the houses were from the land to the sky. There was the world below ground, the surface, and the sky. They were known not by Greek, but by the words whispered on the wind millennia ago.

For those below the ground, the dead waited, fire rose, and curses spilled from red-dripped lips. For those on the surface, nature bowed to their whim. Their forms could shift, and the voices of the world filled their minds. And then, high in the sky, were those who could hear the voice of time, wind, and space. The past, present, and future collided like comets against human thought.

Keith didn’t envy sky witches. Visions of places out of time could hit with no warning: he’d heard stories of witches getting into car crashes or going vacant during speeches or weddings. Worse, their dreams were only ever nightmares. Whether the witch was a child or adult, the visions weren’t choosy. 

That wasn’t to say everything was perfect for the rest of the witches. Nature witches endured talking animals and whispering plants. Those like Keith--abyssal witches--were haunted by the dead and the groans of the earth writhing in unending agony. 

Being a witch sucked. Oh, it was fun to weave a spell with the swirl of an index finger or bottle up a protein shake potion for your workout, but Keith couldn’t live near a graveyard or hospital or even any historical site. He kept to student housing that’d been built in ‘08 and tried not to visit the campus’ galleries or older offices.

The University of Blackgate schooled witches, warlocks, and every non-human who needed an education and had the money. Classes ran day and night, all through the Atlantic cold. Upstairs, a dorm room of drunks stumbled around. Whether they were trying to get ready for the first class of the semester or fucking around, Keith didn’t know. He hated them anyway. They’d woke him up at seven when his first class was at ten. 

“It’s good for you to get up early,” Pidge told him through the wall. Her blinds were drawn and she’d be there for the next twelve hours. The assignments vampires got were miserable--it was what professors felt entitled to do when their students didn’t need to sleep.

Keith stared up at his ceiling. He’d been out late last night, hurrying to shop for a bit of food, then being chased by a ghost, and finally stranded after the bus line got delayed due to heavy traffic. Most days, he was up by 6:30, ready to run from campus to the town and back. But now? After moving and the summer he’d had? He wanted to pause time for a little bit and get his shit together.

His first class was Decomposition Reversal: Theory and Practice. It was an interaction between the death magic of abyssal witches and sky witches’ time magic. It paired up different powers and perspectives. It should have been the most interesting course available, but all Keith felt was a dull dread. Group work meant partners, and partners meant interaction. What if he was paired with Griffin or Lance--or someone who’d turn out their equal in annoyance?

He rubbed his face, trying to push in warmth and energy. The day was going to happen whether or not he wanted it to. He forced himself to focus on getting ready. It was his his fourth year. Two semesters, and he was free. He’d have a Bachelor’s in Magi-medical Sciences. He could reverse people’s gangrenous wounds; he could decompose toxins in the body, removing active agents. 

Most people expected necromancy from abyssal witches. There weren’t many abyssals around--the sky and nature loved more easily--and most could be split into three subgroups: there were the cheerful macabre, those who tarnished the rest of them, and those like Keith who were just trying to get through life without accidentally animating roadkill. 

The classroom was tucked in the basement, down a grody hall that looked almost forgotten. The seating was along elevated connected desks, like pews for a church or trial. He took a seat, crossed his arms, and leaned back. It was twenty minutes until class start. 

Keith didn’t want to be there--didn’t want to be in the University of Blackgate period. It was a law that all witches had to attend some form of further education, just so they’d learn how to control their abilities. If Keith had his way, he’d live in a nice little cabin in a forest somewhere. He’d farm what he needed, escape the ghosts, ignore the earth’s groans, and live with a familiar--maybe a dog or bird. He’d make money through carrying packages, or messages, and he could surround himself in wards and signs, fending off the worst of the horrors that he attracted--

The classroom door swung open. Keith looked up and tried not to yawn. It struggled to happen as his jaw tried to loosen and his eyes widened. “Riro?” was all he managed.

Takashi Shirogane glanced in his direction. The man’s face lit up. “Keith!” The witches around Keith burst into whispers. Spells kept them from being understood, but Keith already knew the gist. Who was this man, why did he know Keith, and why was Keith choking on his own spit?

Admittedly, the last was also a question for Keith. It’d been years. He’d thought the crush was over. “I haven’t seen you since Yule,” he managed.

Shiro grinned and laughed. “I kept meaning to visit for Beltane, but grad school was hell. This is your final year, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What are you here for?” That was rude. “Are you a TA?”

“Sessional lecturer, actually.”

Oh, fuck. Hot for Teacher played in the back of his mind. He’d been smitten when they’d met years ago. Keith had been twenty and crushing on a twenty-three year old Shiro who seemed like  _ everything _ . Working on his PhD when he was so young, powerful, hot, but most importantly, Shiro was kind and warm. He’d stolen Keith’s tongue and heart within the first hour of the Yule celebrations in Chicago.

“You got your PhD, then.”

Shiro beamed. “Finished it last year! I took your advice on it, by the way.” More whispers that Shiro didn’t even acknowledge. “You were right that a Chthonic witch could trace the samples. I’d thought a Wild witch could do it, but the ground wouldn’t speak to her.”

Keith shrugged. “The earth knows that nature cares little for it.”

“That’s what Claire said. I wish there were more Chthonics--there’s so much we can learn from people with your kind of powers.” Shiro looked at the watching students. “I promise I won’t be marking Mr. Kogane. His papers and exams are going to Professor Wright.”

There was relief on the more academically-inclined students’ faces. Shiro leaned in to Keith. “We can talk more afterward.”

That didn’t help Keith pay attention. The meet and greet of the first day was--it was unnerving. He’d jerked off to the man at the front. They’d kissed in a closet, drunk on eggnog. Shiro had, throughout the night, told him what the winds whispered, and Keith had returned it by singing the song of the moving earth. 

Keith was, for the first time, glad they hadn’t fucked. Shiro greeted the class with his trademark warmth. Professor Shirogane had specialized in mountain spirits and the connection between the earth and the winds’ words. As an Aerie witch, he could see the past, present, and future--which meant that he could see what a decomposed carcass had looked like before the rot. 

“Part of the mountains’ whispers were spirits of those who’d died,” Shiro said, “and they’d guide us towards frozen bodies. My magic is not as directly powerful like a Wilds or Chthonic witch’s, but I promise that I’ll be able to guide you through this. I just ask that, in return, you apply yourself and listen.”

Keith tried not to be distracted. It was hard, though. When Shiro moved, his muscles flexed beneath his dress shirt and Keith knew exactly what those muscles felt like up close. The cynical part of him had declared the entire infatuation as simple lust, but it was hard to say that when he seemed to have carted around the torch for Shiro for two years. 

Which only changed the cynicism from calling it lust to calling himself pathetic. Who the hell pined after a man they’d known for two days? It was like his punch had been spiked by ten different love potions. He’d seen news of Shiro’s graduation from White Watch College and he’d bought a nice six pack of beer to celebrate. Maybe it would have been less pathetic if he’d sent an email to Shiro, but they’d parted from Yule with a kiss and promise that Shiro would reach out.

He never had. Keith had taken the promise as just something people said. But now Shiro was his professor, and wanted to talk again. It was probably going to be a little reminiscing at most. Hell, Keith could help Shiro settle into Blackgate. He knew the campus by heart, and the Chthonic department was pretty tiny. It looked like Shiro was going to be split between it and the Aeries. 

By the end of the class, Keith knew a third would drop the course. Shiro was hot, but the pictures of rot were repellant to those unused to nature and death. Aeries witches flinched and grimaced. Even some Wilds witches, those who clung to plants and forewent animals, cringed at decomposed animal corpses. To reverse the decay meant to immerse yourself in the decay.

Shiro came to him afterward. “Death magic isn’t popular here, is it?”

“Blackgate isn’t big on death,” Keith said. He packed away his pens and books. “We’ve got the lowest ratio of Chthonics.” Keith wasn’t even sure he liked the term, but it was the academic way to talk about witches’ differences. There was something evasive to it, though. Shiro was a sky witch. Keith was an abyssal witch, a corpse witch, an earth witch. Only the nature witches’ name as ‘Wilds’ seemed to fit their powers.

“I know,” Shiro said, “but separating themselves from death and natural processes is a good way to limit your powers and mind.” He sighed. “I hope those feelings don’t land on you.”

Keith shrugged. “We’re not popular anywhere. But I’m just glad there are classes like these. It used to terrify me having roadkill follow me around, and it’d be nice to be able to reverse that so it looks a little less… strange.”

“That’s probably one of the better uses for this.”

“There’s healing too, isn’t there?” Keith scratched his cheek. “Reverse gangrene. And morticians, though I don’t think anyone’s planning to become one in the program.”

“It’s also a good way to investigate wounds for police,” Shiro said, “and a good way to  _ confuse _ police. Though I’m hoping nobody’s planning the latter in the class.”

Keith grinned. “Well, you never know.” He stood from his seat. “We should probably move out for the next class.”

Shiro seemed to startle. He glanced behind him to see other students hovering at the door. “... Of course. You can come to my office?”

The words were nervous. Keith squinted at Shiro. “Sure?” That wasn’t firm. “Lead the way.”

The students parted for Shiro. Several looked a bit dazed at his appearance. Keith didn’t blame them. He felt a bit dizzy himself. The halls were dark wood with grey windows. Blackgate was situated in New England woods, far from town, and was built from a series of mansions and cottages. The classrooms had once been dining rooms and the offices bedrooms.

Blackgate was a premiere school. Its students were legendary--there were weather witches, spies, coven leaders, and bodyguards among professors, scientists, and corporate leaders. The East Coast had one other school: Domdaniel College. Keith had started there. It was a dumping ground for students. Every witch needed to be trained, but it didn’t need to be quality.

Shiro’s office was tucked between a wind lab and vending machine. “It’s the only good thing about it,” Shiro said as he ushered Keith in. Keith understood why in seconds: Shiro’s office was dumpy, dark, and damp. Everything was crammed in.

Keith pursed his lips. “They didn’t spring for much, did they?”

“No,” Shiro conceded, “but I’ve never taught anywhere before and I just got my PhD.”

Keith flopped onto the chair opposite the cherry wood desk. “You’ll get out of here fast.”

“Will I?” Shiro sat opposite in a creaking office chair. 

Keith bit back a smirk. “You’re you. You got hammered on eggnog and spent an hour talking about how to predict cloud patterns.”

A faint rosy colour tinged Shiro’s cheeks. “You listened, though.”

“I did.” Keith stretched out in the chair. Did he want to be cruel? He shifted, and his shirt rose slightly. Shiro’s eyes darted down and when he looked up, Keith was sure to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.”

Shiro looked away. “I… meant to reach out.” Keith shrugged, raising a brow. “There never seemed to be a right time.”

Keith hadn’t been the only one carrying a torch, then. “Nothing ever seems quite right when you’re nervous.”

Shiro released a gusty sigh. “You see right through me. I didn’t know how to handle that when I was blasted at Yule, and I don’t know how to handle it when I’m sober either, evidently. If you want to be angry at me, I won’t argue--”

“I could have reached out too,” Keith said quietly. Shiro watched him. “I knew where you were. I didn’t want to intrude if it was just an eggnog-fuelled flirt or if that other guy you mentioned, well, worked out.”

Shiro shook his head. “I confessed to him that year. Four dates in and he turned out to be an asshole. I felt like I’d wasted something, you know. That I should have just reached out to you and never bothered with him. I thought you’d have moved on by then, though, or that you might think you were second place.”

Keith could have been hurt by that. He could have chosen to be bitter or angry. Shiro seemed to half expect it. But-- “I’m not angry,” he said. “I’ve thought about you for a long time. That Yule was one of the best days of my life, which might be embarrassing to say, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know there are probably departmental rules about dating students, but this is my last year. If I get approval and cram, I can finish this semester.”

“That’s a lot for a first date.”

Keith laughed at the dry tone. “I hate being here anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Keith said, “the ground here’s loud, a lot of students don’t care for us ‘Chthonic’ witches, and Blackgate charges money, unlike Domdaniel. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I have to pay a kidney to stay here.”

Shro contemplated Keith. “Where would you go?”

“To town. They won’t ask questions, and I know there’s some jobs that could be relaxing.”

“What kinds of jobs?”

Keith shrugged. “Mortician.” Shiro laughed and Keith smirked. “No, I want something quiet. Maybe a mechanic or something with art. I want to do something with my hands, y’know?”

“Nothing with magic, though.”

Keith frowned down at Shiro’s ridiculously clean desk. “... Not much use talking to ghosts or hearing the Earth complain.”

“You can talk to metal, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was soft. “The earth’s movements are song to you, and the dead whisper. That’s beautiful.”

“It’s exhausting.”

Shiro nodded, but he wore a crooked smile. “I know what that’s like, but you can’t run from it. You know what happens to witches who refuse to use their magic.”

Curses from the natural world. Dangerous magic fluctuations that could hurt people. “I’m not leaving it behind. I just don’t want to use it more than I have to.”

“When you’re as powerful as you are, Keith, infrequent use is close to never.”

“Shiro--” Keith sighed. “I just want to be able to go a day without seeing a suicide’s ghost or hear the Earth whispering about the things it’s seen.”

“There are ways.”

Keith looked up. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an Aerie witch technique.” Shiro leaned in. “It doesn’t give permanent silence, but it can let you rest for a day or two. It’s hard to learn, and you’d need to have a lot of control over your magic. You had the aptitude for learning the last time I saw you.”

“I promise I haven’t gone downhill.”

“I suspected not. I’ll teach you how to do it, but you have to promise me that you’ll choose to do exactly what you want to. No settling. No telling yourself you can’t do it. Whatever you want to do, and I’ll help give you a bit of peace.”

Keith pursed his lips. What would he do if he had the choice? Mechanic had been the idea as he could ignore his powers and spend his days tinkering with vehicles, which made more sense than magic ever had. Earlier, he’d dreamed of being a courier with his cottage, but was that practical? How could he work with that with his magic? He’d have a degree in Magi-medical Sciences, but that’d been chosen on a whim, more of a way to complete his education than enjoyment.

“I want to live in a cottage,” he said; “somewhere where I can relax. Maybe--maybe I could be a courier, vet, or trainer. I don’t know.”

“It’s fine not to know.”

Keith grimaced. “Not when you’re graduating soon.”

“I just want you to follow your passion,” Shiro said. “A witch lives for two hundred years. You’ve got time. I just don’t want you to give up on your passions because you’d rather hide. I think a cottage is a beautiful idea--” Keith laughed harshly, but Shiro kept smiling-- “and there are ways to get there. Take your time with graduating. I’m not going anywhere any time soon. When you find a job, it doesn’t need to be the job you’ll hold for the rest of your life. Just find your passions and never forget magic is a part of you.”

Shiro had always been in love with that. Magic wasn’t just a power; it was innate, part of the soul, a fragment of a witch that should be tended to like a garden. Keith found a smile rising in him. “I think I’ll do that better when I can go a night without dreams.”

“I know that feeling. We can put it down as tutoring. Three times a week, in here. I’ll bring food.”

Keith released the smile. “I’ll bring the mulled wine.”

“You remember that, don’t you?” Shiro looked pleased. 

It was hard to forget Shiro throwing back mulled wine like it was water. “I remember you tasted like clove,” Keith said dryly.

Shiro flushed. “You won’t hint about this in class.”

Keith’s smile turned to a grin. “Not in a way anyone will know.” Shiro’s groan only made the day sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful holiday. <3 You can find me at the-wenzel.tumblr.com or @AJORinn on Twitter!


End file.
